Day Eight – Bar Xtreme

Day Eight – Bar Xtreme (January 3, 2011)

Today was our last morning in Lisbon, and I was upset. I’d had a fantastic time there and didn’t really want to leave, the comfort of the Lisbon Sheraton possibly having something to do with this. We got up at the ungodly hour of 9am (ish, could have been a bit later) and packed up our bags.

We had, for reasons unexplained (mostly because we are cheap) decided to walk with our impressively large and heavy luggage up the Marques do Pombol to pick up our hire car. Not only to Marques do Pombol, but down to the big roundabout and then up the impressively steep hill. We eventually found the Avis and picked up Aurelia (our first Portuguese hire car had to be named Aurelia, as all our hire cars have names, as does our sat nav Tracy). Aurelia is a new Toyota Yaris, only slightly larger than one of my shoes, but in black, as opposed to the stylish white my travel trainers are.

We live in London, and therefore being somewhat sane, don’t actually own a car. It’s been some time since I’ve driven a motorcar, and I’m not so much good at starting a manual transmission car on hills, at least when I’m facing up them, I’m a star if I’m going down. It may be a good time to point out that Lisbon is built on pretty much nothing but hill. With a fair amount of trepidation we set Tracy the SatNav at a destination, backed up down a hill AND around a corner (my driving test examiner would have been proud), and set off.

As she normally does, Tracy steered us right and got us out of central Lisbon with little fuss and almost no muss. Hills were few and far between, almost as if Tracy was as nervous about my hill start ability as I was. It was Monday late morning but traffic wasn’t too bad and before long we were on the motorway, heading for Almourol Castle, near to Tomar.

We found it with only minor confusion. Apparently Portugal has gone through a period of infrastructure improvement over the last few years. Tracy is starting to show her age, and as we got closer to the castle she started having some problems. We found it eventually, but were slightly unimpressed with its grandeur. For one, it’s on a very small island that at least in January is inaccessible, being in the middle of a river. We took a few photos and were off again.

On the plus side, the large and deserted hill leading back to the motorway meant that I got to practice my hill starts, and I got to the point where I could start without burning out the clutch. I find it’s best to practice these sorts of things on hire cars. Also, I would recommend if you are considering purchasing a former hire car to have the clutch checked, in case I’ve been driving it.

It turned out that Tomar wasn’t that far from the castle, and it wasn’t long before we were very confused again as Tracy had no idea where we were. Apparently the new highway looks a lot like forest and/or field to her, although to be fair, she is getting on in years. We eventually found the roundabout that she kept telling us to look for, and from there the road up to Casa Rosden, our home away from home for the next few days. www.casarosdenportugal.com

Apparently the road leading up to Casa Rosden was ripped apart a few weeks ago, and is now a morass of a dirt road featuring potholes and large mud puddles. Aurelia did a stellar job and we found the place with little difficulty. We were met by owners Ros and Den (thus the creatively named Casa Rosden), who showed us our room for the next few nights.

Den graciously offered to take us on a quick driving tour of Tomar and the local sights, including the supermarket so that we could buy any supplies necessary. The driving tour was fantastic and included a full tour of central Tomar, as well as a drive up the hill to see the Templar castle and the rather impressive aqueduct that fed it. The supermarket in particular was important, as after seven nights of eating out, we were ready for some home cooked food.

It’s always an adventure exploring a market in a foreign country, especially when you don’t speak the language. We did fairly well I think, picking up enough to sustain us for two dinners, including barbequed steak and salad for this evening, as well as some wine. We piled back in Den’s four-wheel drive and came back to the casa.

Fortunately, there is a really nice open air charcoal barbeque at the house, and I used it to it’s utmost in cooking two very tasty steaks for dinner. I like eating out, but it’s hard to be beat home cooked steak from an outdoor grill. With salad and decent wine, a winner all around.

After dinner we were feeling a bit restless, so we walked up to the local village of Portela to see if we could find somewhere to have a final drink for the evening. The local restaurant was closed but the XTreme bar was open (the local motorcross/dirtbike biker hangout), so we went in there.

It struck us almost immediately how important language is in feeling comfortable in a place. As we opened the door, all conversation stopped and everyone turned to stare at us. We found a seat and sat down. It took some time before conversation started again. We ordered a glass of wine and a regular sized bottle of beer between us and settled in.

The football was on, so we watched that as we chatted. It was unclear which side the residents of the bar were supporting, and we didn’t know either side as it was Portuguese league sides, so we remained silent, even at the obvious dives and near missed goals, which would normally have elicited some comment or other. We ordered another round.

Eventually, the time came to pay the bill and stumble back down the gravel pit of a street to our room. I asked for the conta and was answered in Portuguese. I didn’t want to make a scene and demand a response in English, as I hadn’t understood the response the first time, so I choose the twenty euro note from my wallet, assuming that the five euro note wouldn’t be enough to cover two beers and two wines.
It turned out that I was wrong. I was given seventeen euros forty cents change – that’s right, two bottled beers and two half-decent very large glasses of wine cost a grand total of two euros sixty. I love this place. It might not be the Champs Elysees, but it does have its charms. We settled in for the night, sufficiently sophonisified and quite pleased with ourselves.